


Two Sides, One Coin

by china_shop



Category: White Collar
Genre: Angst, Episode Tag, Fic, Gen, Pre-Slash, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-25
Updated: 2010-10-25
Packaged: 2017-10-12 21:14:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/129137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/china_shop/pseuds/china_shop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Usually Neal reveled in Peter's attention, but even he knew you could have too much of a good thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Sides, One Coin

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers up to 2.07.
> 
> Thanks to dragonfly for beta.

**Heads**

Thursday night, Peter was just closing the dishwasher when there was a knock on the front door. It was Diana, looking businesslike despite her leather jacket and short apricot-colored skirt. She was carrying a file.

"Come in," said Peter. "Do you want a beer?"

She handed him the file, slipped out of her jacket and folded it over her arm. "Thanks, but I can't stay."

"Fair enough." El was doing her accounts at the dining table, so Peter took Diana into the living room. "What have we got?"

"Nothing." She raised a hand to acknowledge El, and turned back to face him. "I checked all of Fowler's aliases. There's no movement on any of them. He's vanished."

Peter sifted through the uninformative printouts in the file. "Either he's dead or someone's hiding him."

He sat down and scanned the pages again, hoping these dead ends would trigger an idea, a new lead.

"So it's stalemate." Diana perched on the edge of the armchair, facing him. "Are you sure you don't want to bring Caffrey in on this? He knows the music box better than we do. Maybe he knows where we can get our hands on the key."

Peter stared down at the file while he thought about it. She was right, of course, and Neal wanted to be included, had all but said so. Not to mention the fact that Neal was obviously conducting his own investigation with Mozzie and was bound to end up doing something stupid if Peter didn't keep him close. It would be safer for everyone if they worked together on this.

But Peter was already treading a fine line when it came to Neal. Bringing him any closer, working together on something that was off the books and _personal_ could only lead to disaster. To have Neal sitting next to him now, lithe and focused and quick, leaning in to read over his shoulder—Peter's pulse leaped at the thought, and that was reason enough to say no. He'd discussed it with Elizabeth numerous times: maybe once the tracker came off, if Neal was miraculously still alive and toeing the legal line, or near enough, maybe then Peter could—they could—carefully, delicately raise the matter. Until then, Peter needed all the distance he could get.

He closed the file and met Diana's eye. "Our investigation's unofficial. It's safest for Neal's parole status if he stays well clear of it. And you know he'd only do something stupid."

She gave him a crooked smile. "Whatever you say, boss."

And Peter had no idea if she saw right through him, but either way, he knew she'd respect his decision.

 

 **Tails**

Neal paced the rooftop patio, breathing in the chill night air and trying to figure out their next step. Kate was gone. The music box was gone. Fowler was gone. The black box recording hinted at betrayal and conspiracy, but it didn't prove anything and it didn't give them any solid leads.

"Far be it from me to admit defeat, but are you sure you don't want to take this to the Suit?" Mozzie was leaning in the doorway, tracking his movements and swirling a glass of merlot. "He has access to certain data that—I wouldn't say he's better informed than us, but when it comes to one of his own, Garrett Fowler, for example, he might be able to dig deeper."

Neal hesitated, then strode past Mozzie to the kitchenette and poured himself a glass of wine without answering. He couldn't take this to Peter.

He trusted Peter with his life and his freedom, and he had every faith in Peter's deductive powers, but bringing the search for Kate's killer under Peter's wing would leave Neal with no space of his own, nowhere he could breathe and scheme and do his thing without constantly being on guard. Peter was sharp, Peter watched him, and it would only take a tiny lapse on Neal's part—a slip of the tongue, even a miscast look—to give away his secret, the true nature of his feelings.

Neal couldn't reveal that for any number of reasons: because it'd make Peter uncomfortable or worse; because of Elizabeth; because of who Neal was and who he wanted to be, which wasn't working for the Government and playing by the rules for the rest of his life. Even if by some miracle Peter did swing Neal's way, he wasn't the kind of guy to have a casual affair—that was part of what Neal admired about him—and Neal wasn't able or ready to settle down. He'd been willing to try with Kate because she was the one woman he'd ever loved, his one chance at going straight—sexually, if not legally.

But Kate was gone, and Peter already crowded Neal's days and sometimes evenings. He filled Neal's vision, had no compunction about rapping on Neal's door and barging into his apartment, realigning Neal's priorities and pushing him to think faster, smarter, to twist logic to circumvent the rules.

Usually Neal reveled in Peter's attention, but even he knew you could have too much of a good thing. If he was around Peter twenty-four/seven, he'd asphyxiate or he'd screw up and make a pass at him.

Mozzie didn't need to know that. "Peter won't let me investigate Kate's death," Neal told him now. "We're on our own with this. See what you can find."

"If you're sure," said Mozzie, his eyes watchful behind his glasses.

Neal shrugged and took a mouthful of merlot, barely tasting it. "It's the way it is."


End file.
